


Coming For You

by briemundlover



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Angst, Briemund Celebration Week, F/M, Post-Season/Series 07 Finale
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-09-28
Updated: 2017-09-28
Packaged: 2019-01-06 08:32:46
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 1,292
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12207591
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/briemundlover/pseuds/briemundlover
Summary: Based on a prompt I accidentally came up with on Tumblr: "Brienne learns of the Night King’s attack at Eastwatch and suddenly she finds herself extra worried because Tormund is there"





	1. Tormund

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first Game of Thrones fanfic, and the first I write in years. My apologies...
> 
> Also thanks to [ elenatria](http://archiveofourown.org/users/elenatria/pseuds/elenatria) for beta'ing it.

_Brienne of Tarth._

The thought of the lady knight is the only thing that keeps me warm at Eastwatch-by-the-sea. Ever since that magnificent woman came riding through the gates of Castle Black I could not take her out of my mind. I had never seen anyone like her, and I don’t think I ever will again. Tall, strong, fierce, yellow hair, blue eyes. A formidable warrior. She could be a perfect spearwife to any man of my people. What a woman.

The Southerners call her Brienne the Beauty. I envy whoever gave her that title, which fits her so perfectly. If the gods allow me, I will tell her every day of my life just what a beauty she truly is.

If Brienne were a woman from the Free Folk, I would have stolen her for my own the moment I first saw her. But she isn’t. Besides, I know she could cut me in half with that fine sword of hers if she wanted to. If only she knew how much I respect and admire her for it… So I have to make do with what I’ve got, which is watching all her gracious moves; approach her with as much caution as possible. For the first time in my life I wish I had knowledge of the Southern customs, in order to properly woo her. Maybe Jon Snow could help me with that. He owes me that, anyway.

But this has to wait. Right now my men and I must help the crows guard Eastwatch. Now we, men of the Free Folk, are part of the Night’s Watch. Who would have thought?

Beric Dondarrion follows me to one of the lookout posts at the top of the Wall. It’s always been cold here, but now that winter has come, it feels colder than I can remember. Ravens fly croaking. Conversations between men are almost muffled by the howling winds of winter.

“It’s a long way down,” Beric comments, looking down.

“Yeah,” I agree. “The crows keep telling me I’ll get used to it.” Deep inside I find it very hard.

I look down and away. The White Walkers are getting closer. They are thousands, and there are even giants amongst them. I tremble, whether for fear or the cold winds, I don’t know. The memories from that suicide mission looking for a wight are still fresh. Men of the Night’s Watch start blowing horns.

Suddenly the army of the dead simply stop. I’m confused for a moment, wondering how they intend to pass through the Wall. The answer to my question comes from the sky. I look in terror: one of the Dragon Queen’s sons, the one that had been hit by the Night King, is back to life and approaching quickly. I don’t think twice: I urge Beric and the other men to run.

I can’t see exactly what’s going on, but judging by the tremors I feel, I know the wight dragon is destroying the wall. I’m sure of it when I see right before my eyes a kind of blue fire cut the ice walls. But I don’t have much time to understand what’s happening, because I am caught by a massive layer of snow and ice, and everything around me darkens.

The Long Night has come, the Wight Walkers will have gone past the Wall, and all I can think about now is Brienne. Gods, help me. I don’t want to die without seeing her gorgeous face one last time. I want to survive so that I can claim her for my own; fight by her side; make my babies with her.

I’m getting breathless and I feel my strength fall away as I try to get out of the snow, but I have strength enough to utter one single word, without caring whether it was heard or not.

“Brienne.”


	2. Brienne

“Tormund.”

His name escapes my lips without my permission, before I can stop it. It could have been either a whisper or a shout, but I know it came out loud enough to catch Lady Sansa’s and Jon Snow’s attention. I try not to sound or look too terrified, but deep inside I know I have failed miserably. I start feeling a blush on my cheeks.

Bran Stark, now the Three-Eyed Raven, saw everything. One of Daenerys Targaryen’s dragons was hit by the Night King’s spear, then brought back to life as an ice dragon and partially destroyed the Wall, making way for the White Walkers to finally pass. My heart skipped a beat at the mention of Eastwatch. Fear overcomes me, because the Long Night, the greatest battle of our lives, is about to begin. But mainly, because I know Tormund is there.

I can’t believe I am actually worried about Tormund, of all people. I see the way he looks at me. Like he desires me, like he wants to devour me. He has looked at me this way ever since our eyes first met at Castle Black, and it bothered me so much. I had tried to make it clear several times, but he had insisted. Because I have seen that look before, more than once. He wouldn’t be the first man to mock me, and certainly wouldn’t be the last. But something inside me makes me wonder: what if he’s not mocking me at all? What if he is being sincere?

No, this cannot be. After all, I am Brienne, the Beauty. How I hate this nickname. All the men who ever laid their eyes on me either were mocking me or merely wanted to inherit Tarth. That until I won my place in King Renly’s Rainbow Guard. He had treated me with such respect, like no other man had before, that I could not help but having feeling for him. Then Jaime Lannister came along. In the beginning he was unable to hide his repulse towards me, which was reciprocal, but after what we went through together, we learned how to respect each other. And now, the Wildling fellow with the red beard. With Tormund, however…

I wish I could be sure he is just another man mocking me, but I can’t bring myself to believe it at all. And, for some odd reason, I feel I will miss his smiles, his glares, watching me sparring with Podrick. Never before have I felt so confused. So torn. Why does my heart betray my mind this way?

I don’t know what gets to me, but the only thing I know right now is I need to know that Tormund is alright, that he has survived the attack. I have to save him. As soon as possible. My mind is yelling at me, telling me I should be away from him, but my heart wants to just take one of Daenerys’ dragons, fly to Eastwatch and unbury the Wildling from the snow. Straight to my arms.

Jon’s voice interrupts my thoughts. They are talking about a rescue mission. I don’t think twice, don’t even blink: I am the first one to volunteer, and I surprise myself with it. A part of me expects Lady Sansa to stop me from going, since she would need my protection. However, with only a smile and a nod, she seems to have listened to the other part of me, the one that’s now grateful for allowing me to join the mission.

With a relieved sigh, I follow Lord Snow and the others in order to start making arrangements. I’m not quite sure about my decision just yet. My mind tells me I must stay in Winterfell beside Lady Sansa. My heart, the loudest voice now, makes me say out loud:

“Wait for me, Tormund. I’m coming for you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks for reading it, and follow me on [Tumblr](https://briemundlover.tumblr.com>) if you like.


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